It happened twice.

Two different people. Different days. Same result.

We are walking along the river, talking about a myriad of topics, in a free-flowing conversation. We jump from one topic to another – laughing, scowling, celebrating, worrying – it’s hard to keep track.

You know those kind of conversations?

I am usually the one who says “What was I saying?” Then some young thing quickly recites a full list of the last five ideas and how they connected.

Except, I was the young thing this time.

Viktor E. Frankl - in his seminal work Man’s Search for Meaning - tells the story of a well-known composer and librettist whose death illustrated a mechanism of hope. One day the man gushed to Viktor that he had dreamt he would be free of the Nazi concentration camp. “When?” asked Frankl. “On March 30th, 1945” whispered back his friend.

He died on March 31st.

Cause? The death of hope in Frankl’s estimation. The loss of his hope triggered a deadly weakening of his immune system, and the man ultimately fell to the ravages of typhus.

Right now I am in the process of ripping apart my past to find a way to my future.

Contained within my past is a modus operandi that I conceive holds back my ability to act effectively and efficiently. To get to the future, I think I need to understand my past.

Maybe you identify this same tendency in you? I am certainly not alone in this…

What did you feel when you woke up today?

How did you make sense of it?

You don’t need to make sense of your positive experiences – they are wonderful! It is the negative experiences you want to examine. When you experience a strong negative emotion, what do you do?

My guess is that you give this negative experience a name.

You call it “tired” or “worried” or “depressed” or “sad” – whatever. Words are called forth to give your experience a name.

When was the last time you asked anybody this question:

“What do you know about me that I don’t?”

I tried that question last Sunday with a bunch of trusted biz owners – guys and gals all working in ways similar to me to build their businesses. We were 9 people and as I sat silently listening, I felt my ego being silently ripped out of my guts and spilt all over the floor.

When you do it, be sure you are already secure in your love for your Self.

“Mad Major” John Boyd, quoted above*, is an undeclared American hero. 

Personally I am not a fan - war is not a arena that engages my respect – and I am not fool enough to ignore valuable insights into human behaviour from whence ever they arise.

Boyd declared this idea to his phenomenally successful American fighter pilots, and the idea is also a central premise within Alexander’s evolutionary theory. It’s all carefully laid out in by F.M. in his laboriously written first section of CCCI, but it’s way more interesting to consider Boyd’s take on the subject.

Ending two years of Roundtable Masterminds with Perry Marshall in Chicago.

It’s 4.49am, wide awake, bag packed – having just posted this to Facebook:

A wonderful aspect of Alexander's discovery is how it demonstrates an ancient esoteric adage: “As above, so below.” Macrocosmos is the same as microcosmos.

Yesterday I went into my local Mac shop to complain about a DVD drive that was repeatedly rejecting my rented movie disc. I had had the same problem with another drive of the exact same kind recently, so I was all fired up to get them to acknowledge the problem and fix it.

The way my life has created itself leaves me more apart from my two daughters than physically present. My relationship to this reality has been a challenge. When I arrive back in Japan from a visit to them in Australia, I usually awaken the first day in my apartment with a vague sense of loss and longing. At first I didn't identify it clearly, then…

"OH. I miss my daughters."

Then I remembered a principle my teacher taught me: whenever I am feeling lonely, it is based on a mind that has drifted from the present to imaginary circumstances.

As T. S. Elliot put it:

About a year ago I started to feel uneasy about my position as CEO of BodyChance.

I wasn't doing enough. At least, that's what my mind told me. But the facts gave another story: In that year, BodyChance as a company had grown 31%. Our profit line remained flat, but that was because I continued to invest by improving our service and increasing our attraction to new comers.

I wasn't failing - so why did I feel this disease?